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Nathalion Dawnstrider
Birth of a Blood Knight In the lush forests of Quel'Thalas, seventy years before the second war Nathalion Dawnstrider, son of the middle-upperclass citizens Delaralion and Nathilania Dawnstrider and brother to Delaranth, was born in the village of Fairbreeze. His father, Delaralion, son of a trader and his wife was a simple ranger of the farstriders, as he was made crippled during an unsuccessful ambush upon the amani troll, he soon made it his duty to mold his two sons into what he no longer could become; a warrior of such prestige that they would eventually be able to wash away the stamp of mere traders that his ancestry had cursed him with through generations of ancestors amongst the trading profession. During this strained childhood Nathalion continuesly pushed himself to live up to his fathers high standards. There were two types of people in the world, his father often stated, those whom succeed and those whom does not. At times, he would send the two boys out into the lands not to return till a few days later. This was done on mutiple occations to ensure that they would both one day grow up to become highly skilled archers and trackers of the Farstriders. Delaranth showed promise from the very beginning, and soon became a prominent youngling both in the ways of archery and tracking. Nathalion, however, was not very proficient. More often then not was he forced to plead to his brother for aid during their long treks in the wilds, both to surivive and to return with proof of his 'achievenments' during their time away. Of course, it soon became obvious to the father that Nathalion had no destiny as a farstrider, his aim with the bow was dispeakable and he all too often found himself lost in the wilds without any sense of direction. ...Failure? Desperate to gain his fathers approval Nathalion trained day and night with the help of his brother to get better, regardless, he never managed to master it in the same way as Delaranth. After months of training, this realization eventually dawned upon the boy as well - he would never become a ranger. Distraught by this he searched for another art, something he could become just as skilled at as Delaranth was with his bow. Eventually, he resorted to close-combat, something he discovered he had some aptitude for. He trained long and hard at this, his experience with blades was lacking, as was the teachings he could receive on the subject. Despite his enthusiastic training it did not elevate his standings amongst the father. "A swordsman has no chance against a skilled ranger, he will be shot down before he is close enough to attack." His father was right, Nathalion knew as much. In response to those words he sought to learn how to properly wield a shield along with his sword. He spent many hours of training, using a wooden shield borrowed from his 'uncle's' mercantile goods. After several years it became appearant to this yet very young male that he would not be able to advance further on his own, thus, he left for Silvermoon after receiving his parents blessing and a small pouch of coins to continue his training under the guards of the capital. The second war: 'Duty before all' Long did the training proceed for Nathalion and other younglings training to one day defend their glorious capital in the name of the King. As the youngest of the recruits he never quite managed to become accepted into the group amongst the other older, and thus naturally stronger, initiates. Ultimately Nathalion became a loner, focusing only on his training as there was little in the capital other then his future in the guard that he had to focus on. As the years passed Nathalion, despite being under-aged, finished his training in the guard and was soon assigned a post within the city. This was a dull time in his life with, much to his annoyance, little in the ways of improvement. During this time he became more dedicated to communicating with his family back home. His father seemed to have taken notice of his position in the capital, yet he was largely focused upon his brothers initiation into the Farstrider conclave. Having passed with flying colours, it was obvious to everyone that a promotion was soon to come. During this time the southern parts of the Eastern Kingdoms were ablaze, the orcish horde had begun their rampage throughout the human lands. Once word finally reached Silvermoon tension stirred within the capital. A threat had risen in far down south. However, it did not affect the life of the High elf's, Nathalion in perticular, till the news of the amani and the hordes alliances reached them. In an instance, the entier army begun mobilizing. For Nathalion, this was the opportunity he had waited for, a chance to prove himself in real combat. As one of the first to report he was soon rejected, he was too young to fight in a large scale battle, or any battle for that sake. Instead he and the lesser of the guards, both in skill and rank, were stationed inside of the capital to guard it in the others stead. Not very unexpectedly his brother, on the other hand, was called out to fight in the war with the other rangers to support the armies. The Knight Dawns: The fall of Quel'Thalas Peace and prosperity once again settled upon the verdant lands of Quel'thalas. The horde was defeated for good and the amani hand crumbled with them, there were no enemies left to threaten the High Elf's. For fifteen years serenity ruled and the people thrived under the rule of their king. However, word soon came from the southern borders, news of armies of marshing corpses were closing in on the capital shattering through the many barriers that shielded the city. The either region was in a state of panic, once more were the armies amassed under the sole command of Ranger-General Windrunner in a desperate effort to save the city. But when the news reached Silvermoon it was already too late, the Farstriders were all but decimated and Sylvanas slain with them. Having heard that what was left of the rangers had gathered in the capital Nathalion swiftly sought the surivivors out. As he found that his brother was one of the few who had managed to retreat in time he was overjoyed, though the joy was shortlived. Valiantly, what remained of the high elven army had gathered at the gates in a last desperate defense. However, it was not long before they were overrunned and the scourge crusade poured through Silvermoon as unrelenting as a tidal wave. The body of Nathalion was found during a search throughout the remenants of the city once the scourge forces had left, which they had done just as swifly as they had arrived. Greviously wounded the healers managed to mend him to a point of recovery. He had surivived, but barely. His brother, however, was nowhere to be found. A shattered people, the few high elfs that were still alive were all but broken. A emptiness beyond words had settled down upon them, draining them even to the point of physical weakness. With the king dead and merely a fraction of his people alive Nathalion had taken refuge in one of the many camps that had been established along the cost. Long did he search for any family or friends that perhaps could have surivived the annihilation of their kin but none were to be found. Not even his brother was to be found.